Death Note for President
by numberVIII
Summary: What would happen if one of the Death Note characters became President through some crazy twist of fate? A collection of oneshots about that very subject. T for language and maybe some violence. May contain spoilers.
1. Mello

Okay, all the presidential stuff going on lately (11/08) has sparked discussions about what Death Note characters would be like as president. This story will consist of several short chapters depicting what certain characters would do in said situation...most of them would probably be pretty terrible for the job.

First is Mello. I'll tell you now, if you're from Norway and afraid of Mello and his, erm, _explosive_ habits, I'm not trying to offend you, it just happened to be the first country that popped into mind. I'll apologize in advance for anyone I may offend.

And this story may contain spoilers if you haven't finished the series.

* * *

**Mello**

The leather-clad blond walked into his new office, bit into a chocolate bar and looked around. He wasn't quite sure how he'd gotten this new job, but he was sure that bribes and threats had helped part of the way. After that it was just hard work, determination, and more threats. A woman walked in behind him, wearing a very official looking pencil skirt and her hair in a bun. She carried a clipboard. Mello turned around.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'm your advisor, sir," she replied with a nod.

"Oh. And what is it that you do?"

"I'm your _advisor_, sir," she repeated.

"Riiight...." Mello walked around the room. The woman nodded once again and excused herself from the room. "Wait!" She turned back around.

"Yes, Mr. President?"

"Are there missiles?" He asked eagerly.

"Excuse me?"

"Are there missiles?"

"What for, Mr. President?"

"Oh, you know...just in case." She nodded again and left the room without answering.

"Strange lady..." Mello commented as he sat down at the desk next to the phone. "This is a pretty nice place I guess...Now to rub it in." He picked up the handset and dialed carefully.

"Yes, Mello?" Came a flat and slightly irritated voice from across the line.

"Near," Mello responded, barely able to contain his glee. "I'm sure you've heard of my current situation. President of the United States! So...what have you been up to?" _Not that it's any cooler than this. I've finally won, dear pigheaded Near. _

"I've caught Kira." _Damn it._

"Yeah, but that's still not as cool as being President," Mello lied, biting into his chocolate bar once again. "Think of how much power that gives me."

"No doubt you'll abuse it," Near replied with a monotony that irked Mello. "And as the successor to L, I still have power over-" Mello slammed the phone back down onto the base.

"Stupid pigheaded Near and your stupid pigheaded pig head!" Mello kicked something. "You're so effing stupid and pigheaded, I can't even think of a better insult! GAH!"

**Several Weeks Later**..

(Because somehow he managed to last that long without blowing up something...)

"Mr. President," the advisor started as she cautiously approached the man that always seemed to be angry at something. "Norway has chosen to ignore an existing treaty and is smuggling rare poodle breeds out of the U.S. and into their country."

"Norway? Where the crap is Norway?" Mello asked, still angry at Near and his 'stupid pigheaded-ness'. "And why should I care what they're doing with our poodles?

"Its part of the Scandinavian peninsula, sir," She informed him. "And it's an integrity issue." Mello shrugged.

"Oh, well, I guess that's what we have missiles for..."

**Several Weeks after That...**

"Mr. President, we have a major problem," the advisor said, still very much afraid of her new superior.

"It's never just 'hello' with you, is it?" He growled.

"A crowd of Norwegian immigrants have gathered outside the White House with torches and pitchforks."

"Why the hell...?" He looked out the window with an odd calmness.

"I think they're angry at you for blowing up half their country, sir," she suggested.

"It was only like, an square mile of unpopulated land...!"

"What should we do?"

"Well," he said, pulling a small black remote from a drawer. "There's only one thing that we can do..."

"What is that?"

"A detonation switch." Mello grinned.

"Mr. President," the advisor said angrily. "If you blow up this building then everyone inside will die."

"Not necessarily," he corrected. "I've set it so that the blast will occur in the front of the building, and away from personnel. We should manage to scare off the mob while escaping with only minor cuts and bruises. And besides, it's not like it's going to blow half your face off, right?"

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I hope you liked! Next will probably be Near or Misa, FYI. Please try to review if you have the time. And not just a "it sucked", or "I liked it", or "lol", or "f-you!" Even though it's just a oneshot, I'd still really appreciate constructive critizism.


	2. Matt

I know that I said Near or Misa next, but you already know that I don't really mean the things that I say. So here's Matt.

FYI, you probably won't get this if you don't know about The Sims, a computer game where you make people and control their lives...so, on with the story.

**

* * *

Matt**

"Mr. President?" The maid asked cautiously as she walked into a dark oval office. It was nearly 2 in the morning and the only light was a faint glow from the screen Matt's eyes, and other four senses, were glued to. He hadn't heard the maid, much too busy with blowing off the heads of his internet-friends in some online shooting game. "And open a window, for goodness sake! You're going get lung cancer from all this smoke! And if you die, we'll all have to deal with that ass of a VP, sir." He still didn't hear a thing. The maid frowned and switched on the light. Matt nearly fell from his chair in the blinding light he was not accustomed to.

"What?!" He rubbed his eyes and looked around the room, noticing the maid for the first time. "Oh, hello."

"Look, I'm not you're mother, so I'm not complaining about this mess," she said, motioning to the potato chip bags and cigarette butts that littered the floor. "But would it kill you to sleep once and a while?"

"No, I guess not…" Matt shrugged. He pulled a pillow out from his desk and proceeded to make himself comfortable.

**A Few Days Later…**

Matt was at his computer once again, but this time also managing to fight evil on his Nintendo DS as well. There was a knock on the door and one of the cabinet members walked in.

"Mr. President," the balding politician said sternly. "You still haven't responded to the issues from last week."

"What?" Matt still wasn't quite used to his new job. In fact, with the internet at what it is nowadays, he'd kind of thought it was all some really advanced virtual-reality game.

"Did you even _look_ at them?" The cabinet member asked impatiently.

"Let's see…" Matt racked his brain for bits of information relating to things besides his video games. He didn't find anything. "Probably not." The man sighed.

"Trade with Asia needs to be addressed, and there is an increasing immigration problem along the southern border with Mexico. Also, there's instability with France at the moment." Matt bit his lip and looked at the computer screen.

"I think trade with Asia should increase," he mused after some thought.

"Why?"

"Simple. China-sim has just accepted a gift from U.S.-sim. Their relationship meter has been positively affected." The cabinet member opened his mouth to protest, but couldn't think of anything that wouldn't cost him his job.

"Also, Mexico-sim has been spending the night at U.S.-sim's house recently, but refuses to move in…"

"So?"

"So, the relationship meter isn't high enough. Once it is, Mexico-sim should accept the offer."

"Are you saying to make Mexico a state?"

"No, I'm saying that the U.S. needs to build up his relationship with Mexico so that Mexico will feel comfortable becoming a legal citizen of U.S.'s household. I mean, he's already dating U.S.-sim's sister, it can't take too long." The cabinet member sighed again.

"And France?"

"France will be breaking the treaty with the U.S."

"Why?"

"Male U.S.-sim and female France-sim are having an affair. As a result, the relationship between male U.S.-sim and male France-sim has hit an all-time low. France is going to break the treaty." Matt shrugged and went back to his DS.

"This is madness! You're relying on assumptions made based on video games! It's just not sane!"

"Video games have gotten me this far, I doubt they'll fail me now," Matt said. "Plus, these simulations have personalities very similar to the country which they represent. If you look closely, you'll see that Belgium-sim is making waffles."

**A Week Later…**

Matt was once again meeting with the cabinet member, who was just finishing his updated report.

"…And lastly, negations with French should be finished by the end of the week. I guess it all worked out."

"Yup. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going out. Haven't driven my car in weeks…"

"No security? Is that really a smart move, Mr. President?"

"I just made it through 90 levels of my latest game with out taking a single hit."

"Oh?" the man said sarcastically.

"And besides," Matt argued. "What are the chances I'll be shot anyway?"


	3. Misa Misa

So now here's Misa's. I really don't think it's as good as the first two, but I'll let you be the judge. Next will be Ryuk.  


* * *

**Misa Misa**

"Yay! Misa wins!" Misa shouted as the twirled around her new office. "Misa wins, Misa wins!" An older woman came in through the open door. She waited a minute until Misa stopped dancing.

"Oh, Miss. Assistant, what are you doing here?"

"I just came to check up on you," the woman replied. "What are you doing?" Misa shrugged.

"Celebrating, of course! How many other girls get to live in a house this nice?!"

"Yes, Misa, the White House is rather nice isn't it?"

"I guess, but white? Talk about bland. Maybe we should paint it red or black or something more interesting." The assistant blinked in confusion.

"Uh, well I'll see what I can do, but right now you need to get to a press conference that started 15 minutes ago!"

"Oh! How many outfits should I bring?"

"That's press conference, Misa, not photo shoot. No cameras." She gently pushed a complaining Misa through the door.

"But what's the point of going out in public it there's no cameras!" she whined from down the hall. The assistant rolled her eyes as the thought of how much she regretted applying for this job. At least it paid well.

**A Few Hours Later…**

Misa stormed into the office a few hours later. The assistant was a bit taken aback, but knew that the girl could be calmed without too much effort.

"Misa?"

"That no good, dirty, rotten Takada! What is she thinking stealing my Light away from me?" the assistant stifled a laugh. Was she an assistant or a baby sitter? "It should be illegal or something…Is that legal, Miss Assistant?"

"Misa, I know you're upset, but it's not my job to…"

"I'll make it illegal! Then he'll pay. Both of those heartbreakers..."

"I'm afraid a law like that probably won't make it through congress."

"I'm not asking, I'm telling. I'm president and I can throw that scum in jail if I want to!" She stormed out of the room like a five year old in a temper tantrum. The assistant was left thinking just one thought: This can't end well.

**The Next Day…**

"That no good, dirty rotten congress!" Misa shouted, stomping into the room once again. Did this girl ever speak quietly? "Why can't I throw my cheating boyfriend in jail? That's just not right."

The assistant chose not to reply. She was beginning to enjoy Misa's personality.

"This job is _so_ not easy! No photo shoots, no one listens to me. I mean, they voted! I had _way_ more press coverage, and I look _so_ much cuter in a bikini than that fat old other candidate! So why did they vote for me?"

"I have no idea," the assistant muttered under her breath.

"Well, whatever, I don't like it," Misa stated. "I quit."

"But you can't just-"

"I said: I QUIT." She stood tall and marched out of the room.

"I can't believe it. She didn't even last a week," the, now Misa-free, assistant said to herself. She was now harboring another thought. A cheese grater would have made a better president.


	4. Ryuk

Okay, so it's Ryuk. I have no idea how a Shinigami would even go about becoming president. Use your imagination, guys. I guess that's what fanfiction is for...

* * *

**Ryuk**

"This place is actually pretty nice!" Ryuk said aloud to himself while floating down one of the White House's many hallways. "I can see why Light wanted it so much."

Light had won the election by a landslide with his good looks and superior intellect. Ryuk had stayed around at the promise of amusement. Unfortunately, Light had died of a mysterious heart attack not too long after the inauguration. Many assumed it was from his excessive potato chip consumption. Ryuk personally suspect that Misa had done it in a fit of rage after learning that she couldn't have him and Takada arrested for cheating.

Everyone knows that once the president dies, the VP takes his place. Unfortunately for Ryuk, that meant him. He wasn't all that interested in the job, but anything was better than returning to Shinigami Realm.

"Oh well, at least maybe I can mess with their country a little," Ryuk said, floating into the Oval Office. "Or at least get some apples."

There was already someone standing in the center of the room. He obviously didn't notice Ryuk. Ryuk decided to have some fun with this random guy. He made his way to the door and slammed it as hard as he could, causing the young man to jump about a foot and a half in the air, as well as make the most peculiar face that Ryuk had ever seen.

"After being around intense policemen for so long, I had no idea that anyone could be that jumpy!" Ryuk chuckled. That man was cautiously looking around the room.

"Hello?" He asked the open air. "Is someone there? Is it that invisible VP that I was told about?"

"Hey, you know I'm here? Well in that case, get me some apples!"

"I'm the new intern! And, uh...I could just be talking to myself here...my mom got me this job."

"Oh, you can't even see me, can you?" Ryuk shrugged, pulled out his notebook, and proceeded to smack the intern across the face. The intern blinked in shock, them screamed and ran though the nearest, closed, window.

"Oh my god! It's Godzilla! I have glass shards in my arm! It's Godzilla, RUN!!!1"

**The Next Day**

"I think we should set up an apple tax," Ryuk said. He was speaking with the only person who hadn't run away screaming. Unfortunately, it was only a lonely janitor. "Then, everybody in the country can send me an apple."

"And what would that accomplish?"

"Uh, we...could...feed the hungry or something."

"Than shouldn't you organize a _non-perishable_ food drive?"

"That's not a problem. People can send them to me and I'll take care of everything."

"Whatever..." The janitor went off to mop up something. Ryuk shrugged and went off to fulfill his plan.

**Later that Week**

"This sucks! Nobody wants to send me any apples!" Ryuk scowled. He had put up fliers and everything, but to no avail. He was even starting to go through apple-withdrawl. "I'd rather eat sand than hang around here any longer. It's boring. I guess there's only one thing left to do." Ryuk shrugged and flew off, back to Shinigami Realm.

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A/N- I mean no offence to any janitors lurking around here. Also, to all you grammar freaks- the 1 is there on purpose. Congradulations for catching it though...(I though it would be a nice touch, the intern seemed like that kind of guy...XD) Bring up any other grammar mistakes that I missed and I'll be glad to fix it. But the 1 is staying.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE be critical with reviews!!! Even though it's just a crazy fanfiction, I am always striving to do better.

Hopefully, Near will be next. No promises though.


End file.
